The Gunslinger
by Bojack727
Summary: Chapter 11 is Up! Vincent travels to Nibelheim to see a Doctor, where he learns that he is dying. Can Vincent still learn the importance of life, and can he stop a vicious criminal from killing him and taking over the town? Please Read and Review!
1. Prologue

Here is the first part of this story, it's just the prologue right now, but if I get some good reviews, this will quickly grow into something (that I think and hope will be) great.  
  
-Bojack722  
  
THE GUNSLINGER  
  
Prologue  
  
Vincent Valentine, Ex-Turk and former gun slinger/hero, rode quietly along, atop his faithful Chocobo, Setzer. He was a pillar of stoic dignity; a man of few words and little inflection, this was his way, it was how he lived; he was a quiet man, a man of simple beliefs and classic ideals that were rapidly fading away in an ever changing world.  
  
Some people, especial those who didn't know about what type of man he was, viewed him as a relic, an outdated and unnecessary implement of justice in a forgotten time of lawlessness.  
  
Vincent had seen many things in his long life span; he saw friends come and go, he'd experienced what he assumed was love, he'd seen death on many times, then he died for the first time. That moment was a dark turning point in his life, everything fell apart, and he completely withdrew himself from the world, to live forever in the shadows and the night.  
  
Then _they_ came, they were this strange group of rebels, brought together by unusual circumstances, who were fighting against the corrupt establishment, they were trying to save the world from the ruthless claws of imperialistic greed and deception. He remembered them; some times perfectly clear, as if those fateful few months had happened just yesterday, and other times, he had trouble just remembering their names and what they looked like. But, on good days, he could remember them in great detail- Cloud, Aeris, Barret, and the others; they were such a unique group of individuals- he really did miss them all, these days. It was hard for him to think that they were all gone; passed on or faded into obscurity. Now, it seemed that he was the only one left.  
  
Yet, this was his fate, to live forever, never knowing the joy of a normal life, but this was a dark, grim fact that he had resolved himself to. He wasn't prone to bouts of nostalgia or sentiment, he didn't weep for his long gone comrades, he hadn't shed a tear in so long that he couldn't remember if he had ever really cried at all, or if he even could cry- though, it wasn't as if he had any reason for such a display of emotion these days.  
  
Vincent had been riding now for a while and he could tell that Setzer was growing weary and needed rest; he himself did not need much sleep to function. He was headed for Nibelheim; he had an appointment with a friend who lived there. Something was troubling him, it had started a couple of months ago and he just couldn't shake off the strange feeling within him. He was tired of this feeling, so he had decided to go see a doctor that he knew in the town, maybe he could help him figure out what was happening.  
  
Vincent flinched at the feeling of the breeze against his exposed face. Then, he heard a click off to his side and he turned around. He could see the strange man, rapped up in a bandana and an old over coat, he was holding a rifle, which he was pointing strait at him. The dirty-faced man spoke up finally. "Alright, don't move," The man began. "Now toss yer money over here, right next to my feat." He instructed him.  
  
Vincent frowned and looked the man over. "And what if I refuse?" He asked the bandit coolly. He wasn't too worried about the man before him.  
  
The man was taken back by Vincent's blatant lack of respect for him, but spoke again, this time with more emotion in his voice. "Then I'll blast you!" He replied, lifting up the end of his gun.  
  
Vincent shrugged his shoulders and looked away, then, without looking at the man, he spoke up again. "That sounds fair enough." He remarked simply, reaching into his dark crimson colored cloak to retrieve something.  
  
The man smiled as he watched the man before him reach in to get what he was sure was his wallet. Sure enough, the pouch of money landed right on the ground, just before him. He stepped forward to pick it up. He wasn't expecting the strange man to pull out a small pistol and fire a shot right into his stomach. The whole thing happened in just a few secants.  
  
Vincent watched as the man fell to the ground, grasping at the open wound on his stomach. This was one man who had learned the hard way, as Vincent saw it.  
  
The man swore and looked up at Vincent through clinched eyes.  
  
"Pick it up." Vincent instructed him with out any sine of emotion in his voice.  
  
The man could see that the gun was aimed at him and he didn't doubt that the stranger was willing to shoot him again if he didn't do as he was told. So, reluctantly, he picked up the pouch and staggered over to the side of the Chocobo that that man was riding and gave him the money pouch back. Vincent put the money back into his cloak and looked at the man, who had just fallen down onto his hands and knees, just in time to hear him say something.  
  
"Damnit Mister, you've blown me wide open, I'm bleedin' bad!" The man exclaimed, while fumbling around in the dust and dirt.  
  
Vincent looked down at him impassively and finally spoke up. "You'll live." He said simply and then took the reigns of his Chocobo and rode off into the distance, leaving the man to fend for himself.  
  
Vincent sighed and tucked his pistol back into his cloak. He frowned upon reflecting on what had just happened. "I'm getting too old for this shit." He said to himself as the gates to Nibelheim came into view, off in the distance.  
  
~End of Prologue~  
  
So, what did you think so far? Do you like it? If you do, then it would mean a lot t me if you would please give me good reviews, that way I can feel good about writing more, thanks.  
  
-Bojack727 


	2. Chapter One: First Empressions

I wrote my first FF7 fan fiction back in 1998, and I am really glad to see that after five years, the fan following for this amazing game is just as strong as always. This helped me to get this idea up and going in the first place. It also seems that the loyal Vincent fans are willing to support yet another story about him. However, this is by no means, the "common" Vincent story that we see so often. I am working extra hard to make this something that (I hope) will be completely different from anything ells the readers have seen, both in terms of writing form, depth, plot, and characterization. So, it is with great pleasure, that I present to all you readers out there, the first chapter of "The Gunslinger".  
  
-Bojack  
  
THE GUNSLINGER  
  
Chapter One: First Impressions  
  
Vincent reached the archway with the sign that read: "Nibleheim" on it in big, dark blue letters. He recalled the days when this place was just a little, out-of-the-way town surrounded by mountains. Vincent dismissed the frivolity of the sign hanging over his as he passed underneath in and entered the town. He passed by the spot where the old, rusty, broken-down car was, now there was a completely different one, this one looked like it worked, it must have been one of those gas powered ones.  
  
He further observed that the small town had seemingly doubled in size during the last ten years or so (as he could remember). The old, cottages were gone and modern looking houses had been built in place of them. Though, he could still see the old Shin-Ra mansion, it was fixed up and spruced up with grass and nice little gardens, but it was still essentially the same. He looked over towards Setzer, who just made a little chirp in response. "I know Setzer, it's different, I don't like it either." He said with a sigh as he and the beast seemed to silently agree with one another.  
  
He dismounted Setzer and quietly made his way down the smooth stone paved streets to the large fountain in the middle of the town square; stopping, he surveyed the area to get his bearings of the place. After spotting his destination, he carefully led Setzer along by his reigns, making sure to avoid all the little children that were running about and playing without a care in the world.  
  
Vincent tried to reflect on his own childhood, but it was one of the things that had dulled away from his mind to the point of being nothing but a mere blur in his life, it felt as if he had never really had a childhood sometimes, he wondered if he would just eventually loose all of the memories from the life that was torn away from him so savagely. It was then that he felt the presence of the small locket that Lucrettia had given him when he had visited the cave with the others, so long ago; the small metal object offered the only comfort he could find these days, and some times even that wasn't enough. He started to feel a pang in his heart, he wasn't sure whether it was something pleasant our painful, he had become so desensitized to feeling emotions, that he had great difficulty in distinguishing the scant few emotions that passed through his heart and that were enough for him to notice them . God, it seemed so long ago, how long had it been. it felt like centuries, but it was reckoned in terms of decades, Cloud and Tifa were probably grandparents now, maybe he'd go and visit them. He thought to himself.  
  
Vincent made sure to ignore the strange looks his presence was eliciting from the crowd of onlookers. He was far too accustomed to the fact that he stuck out in amongst all the others to let it bother him anymore. Besides, he was far too old and experienced to feel self conscience over these things. He had realized long ago that what the majority of people perceived as normal was something in a category that he did not fall into, which was perfectly fine to him.  
  
He arrived at the clinic that was run by the doctor he knew. Maybe he could help him some how. he thought. So, after tying Setzer's reigns to the horizontal bar near the entrance to the building, he proceeded into the office building with a word to any of the people who were gaping at him right now.  
  
The building was two stories tall and built in traditional red bricks with glass windows. The sign next to the door read: "James Sortely- Physician".  
  
***  
  
The young redheaded secretary almost jumped when she saw the tall man in the blood red cloak walk in, he looked like a damn vampire or some other king of bogey that she might see in some clichéd horror film. She looked him over and observed the steel-clad left hand, the iron tipped boots, the long raven colored hair and his strange blood red eyes. "God! Why do all the weirdoes have to come during my shift, if it isn't one thing, it's another. Today it's 'Count Dracula'." She thought to her self in frustration, rubbing her temples while she was at it. Working in a clinic way out in the country was stressful enough, but having to handle all the bizarre patients was just too much for her.  
  
Vincent observed the simple white-was walls and the various water color paintings on the walls. There was a hat and coat rack in one corner and an old, worn couch against the left wall of the room, there was a coffee table and a few other things, but nothing really out of the ordinary. He then saw the secretary, who was sitting behind her desk located near the entrance. He approached her, seeing her obvious discomfort in his unusual presence. He was used to people being uncomfortable around him, and, deep down, he did sort of enjoy the knowledge that he could still unnerve people so well after so many years.  
  
"D-do you have an a-appointment?" She finally managed to ask him, after some viable apprehension that was plain to see on her face. Vincent shrugged his shoulders. "I'm here on a surprise visit." Vincent remarked in a restrained tone of voice. "I'm a 'friend' of Dr. Sortely." He then added after thinking for a moment. "Really." The young woman replied skeptically. "What's your name then?" She then asked in a slightly impertinent tone of voice. "Vincent Valentine." Vincent said simply in response; waiting to see how she reacted to the news of who he was. The woman sputtered to perfect awareness and almost yelped in surprise, but instead, reached for the intercom on her desk. Pushing a button on it, she spoke into it in a suppressed, uneasy tone. "Dr. Sortely, there's a man here who says he's _Vincent Valentine_!" She said nervously into the speaker.  
  
"What?!" Came the response from the other end of the line. "Are you sure? I'll be right in." Said the voice. And, in secants, the door on the other end of the room flew open and an older looking man with graying hair and glasses stepped out, a nervous look was apparent on his face at the moment. The Doctor looked him over, carefully scrutinizing him in detail. "So, it is you, Vincent, please come into my office." Sortely said, ushering Vincent into the room with him. He then turned to the Secretary. "Vicky, make sure that the two of us aren't disturbed while we are talking." He instructed the young woman calmly.  
  
"Yes, of course, Dr. Sortely." She said uneasily.  
  
Vincent started to proceed on into the office room, but stopped just before the door way and turned to face the woman once again. He then proceeded to say something.  
  
"Boo!"  
  
This was all it took, the young woman practically jumped in her seat and unintentionally leaned too far backwards in her swivel chair and then it happened- the chair tipped over and she came crashing down with and unceremonious THUD! Vicky pulled her self back up and looked over her desk to see that the office door had already closed. She swore to herself quietly as she tried to smooth out her skirt and her hair. "Damnit, it always happens to me!" She said in frustration. "It's always something!" She said, and then put her chair right side up and plopped back down in it and closed her eyes tightly so that she wouldn't have to deal with anyone ells.  
  
A rare smile played its way across his face as he watched with satisfaction at how high strung the woman was in his presence. And, with a swish of his cape, he stepped into the office, leaving the confused woman to sort things out for herself.  
  
~End of Chapter One~  
  
Well, this chapter was rather lighthearted, and I know that I still haven't really gone into much detail about what's really bothering Vince, but I promise that that will be in the next chapter. The next chapter will be entitled "The Diagnosis".  
  
See ya,  
  
-Bojack727 


	3. Chapter Two: The Diagnosis

I'm happy to present that second chapter of "The Gunslinger" to the readers. I write this with great hopes, as the fans have given me such good reviews for the prologue and the fist chapter. The fans like Vincent, which is good to see, as he has a lot of potential for stories, especial with all the pathos surrounding him and his life. He's such a fascinating character; he's so stoic and dark. So, with out further ranting, I present the next chapter of "The Gunslinger"  
  
-Bojack727  
  
THE GUNSLINGER  
  
Chapter Two: The Diagnosis  
  
Vincent stepped into the office room as Dr. Sortely sat down in the cushy swivel chair behind his desk. He reclined in his seat and smiled at Vincent and motioned to him to take a seat. After watching him pull up a chair and sit down, he spoke up in a cheerful voice. "Vincent, it's been years, how are you doing?" He asked in a friendly tone.  
  
Vincent sighed and crossed his legs. "As good as can be expected of something like me." Vincent replied dryly. Dr. Sortely sighed inwardly as Vincent once again did not refer to himself as a person but rather as some sort of creature. "Well, you don't seem to have changed much, I really wish you'd let yourself live a little now and then." He remarked dully. Vincent shifted in his seat. "Well, James, I'll give that some thought and try to book a vacation some time in the next ten years." Vincent replied flippantly.  
  
"James" smiled at the rare sign of humor from the stoic figure before him. "But all joking aside, what brings a wondering kind of man like you to my little establishment?" He asked calmly. Leaning forward in the process as he spoke.. Vincent hesitated slightly at the question, but after clearing his throat, he began to speak slowly. "Well, I've been having these strange pains in my lower back and around the pit of my stomach. "What exactly do you mean by pains?" Sortely asked. "Well," Vincent began. "The pain is like a muscle spasm or sometimes it feels like I've strained something around there. Sometimes I feel like these is some sort of pressure against my back or my stomach. But, it varies from day to day, I haven't felt anything today." "Interesting." Sortely mused. He then sighed and scratched his chin. "Well, I'm not too sure about what it may be then, so, it sounds like I'll need to do a check-up on you. So, if you'll just step into my examining room and remove that cloak and shirt, then I'll get started." The Doctor said in a very professional manner.  
  
Vincent stood up as Sortely ushered him into the examination room ahead of him.  
  
***  
  
First, he loosed the holds on his metal claw and slid his for-arm out of the deadly sharp weapon; setting carefully down on the examining table. Vincent then slowly undid the many clasps and buckles on his cloak, including the ones on his large caller. Pulling the last from his hair, he hung up the blood red garment on a hook mounted onto the wall near him, making sure that none of his weapons fell out of it. He then slipped off his regular glove and then removed his shirt and set that down near his claw.  
  
He then sat down on the table, causing the fresh paper cover to crease as he eased down onto the surface. He looked up as Sortely walked into the room. "Well, first I'll need to examine your back to check for any internal damage that might be causing the problem." He said as he walked around to face Vincent's back. The first thing he noticed was the long scare which seemed to run down along his back, over where his spinal cord was. He saw a larger scare right in the center of his back, half way down the longer vertical scar. He then got busy feeling around Vincent's back where he said the pain was coming from; it was a pretty standard practice, just to make sure that there weren't any bumps or dents or any other abnormality's in the outer body structure. It was then that he felt something, a small bump near the base of his spine, around where the long scar ended. He furrowed his brow as he further studied the protrusion. He then stepped back around to look Vincent in the face. "I noticed something while I was looking; I think I'll need a blood sample before I can make any further decisions.  
  
Sortely took out a syringe and began taking blood from around Vincent's lower back, around the lumbar area.  
  
And so, Vincent waited as Sortely ran the blood sample under his microscope and examined it. After what seemed like an eternity, Sortely stood up and approached Vincent, who by now had his shirt back on and was slipping on his regular glove.  
  
"Vincent," He began. "After completing the blood test, which, further adds to the likelihood of my initial fear." He paused. "You have cancer."  
  
Vincent almost choked. "Cancer, are you sure?" He asked shakily. "Unfortunately, yes." Sortely replied. "There is a tumor in your body, below your stomach." The Doctor answered. "Can't you remove it?" Vincent asked. "No, I'm sorry; it's already working its way into your body, slowly breaking down the cells in your muscles. I'd have to gut you like a fish to get it out, and you'd never survive the process." "So, what will happen now?" Vincent asked darkly. "Well," Dr. Sortely began. "Over time, the frequency will gradually increase. until it becomes unbearable; then, comes the vomiting and loss of motor skills." "And then a painful death, right?" Vincent asked sardonically. "Yes." Came the Doctor's reply. "How long do I have?" Vincent asked the Doctor. "Months, maybe three or four at most, and the real pain will begin in only two, three at most." He replied. "Thank you." Vincent Said distantly.  
  
"Vincent," He began, waiting till the man looked back up at him. "I think, with this information in mind, you should start getting your priorities strait." He said. "I'll take that into consideration." Vincent replied.  
  
"Take this prescription to the pharmacist; it's for something to help with the pain." The doctor said, handing him a slip of paper. "Well then, I think you for your honesty; Goodbye, James." Vincent said and turned to leave; putting on his cloak and claw.  
  
"Vincent!" The man turned around to look at the Doctor. "Vincent, I'm not a brave man; but if I were you, I wouldn't wait around for what I said to happen." "Right." Vincent said as he walked out of the room. But, then, he stopped, and without turning around, he spoke up. "Do you know of a place where I can stay.? I don't think I'll be leaving Nibleheim after all." Vincent asked darkly. "Mrs. Sullivan runs a boarding house a few blocks south of here, you could stay there." Sortely  
  
***  
  
Vicky had been eavesdropping on the conversation by placing a cup against the wall and then putting ear against the end of the cup. Her cousin once did this when they were kids and they were trying to hear what some "grownups were talking about.  
  
She suddenly pulled away from the wall as she heard someone entering the lobby. She rushed back to her desk just in time to see Vincent walk into the room. She gulped as he stopped and looked at her.  
  
"Good day."  
  
That was all he said to her as he stepped out of the room. Vicky gave a weak smile and said goodbye to the Ex-Turk as he left the room.  
  
***  
  
And so, as Vincent made his way over to Setzer, he stopped and paused to think over what Sortely had told him. So, this was it, he was going to dye. No more living forever; in a way it was what he wanted, he had often felt tired of endless life; but, then he was not sure about this kind of death, he didn't like the idea of dying the way Sortely had described. Also, he wasn't yet clear on what Sortely had said about not waiting.  
  
"I wouldn't wait around for what I said to happen."  
  
"What did it mean? Was he suggesting Suicide.?" Vincent thought to himself. But he then decided that he would sleep on it first.  
  
~End of Chapter Two~  
  
Well, what did you think of the story so far? As always, reviews are appreciated and enjoyed by the Author (me, ^_^) Also, I'm sorry t those of you who were hoping that Vincent would be okay after the Doctor's visit. But this development will shape and form the story. I think that such a situation will allow for a better look into the mind and life of Vincent Valentine. And lastly, in response to Alms the Great's guess, it's true. So I would appreciate it if Alms didn't give it away, thanks.  
  
-Bojack 


	4. Chapter Three: Settling In

Well, after reading the reviews for the story so far, I am glad to see that the readers are enjoying it. I was initially somewhat apprehensive to post this fic, but now I feel comfortable with continuing it.  
  
-Bojack727  
  
THE GUNSLINGER  
  
Chapter Three: Settling In.  
  
***  
  
Vincent road atop his trusty Black Chocobo, Setzer, towards the Sullivan Boarding House; this was the place that Dr. Sortely had recommended. He dismounted his ride and tied Setzer up to the rail near the entrance; he started to head towards that house but then decided to remove his claw just so as not to alarm anyone, and made his way up the steps.  
  
The house was of an older design; built from sturdy oaken wood and pained in a light blue color. It was two stories with an arched roof. The whole structure was trimmed in off-white and gray-green colors. There were flower beds on either side of the steps and porch and neatly trimmed bushes running along the rest of the outside of the house.  
  
Vincent walked up the steps, onto the covered porch, past the dusty porch swing and up to the front door. He notices a little sign by the door saying: "Mrs. M. Sullivan's Boarding House, please inquire inside."  
  
He pressed the little brass button and listened as the doorbell sounded and then she heard a shuffle of feet nearing the door. It opened quickly and Vincent was greeted the image of a young man, almost his height, who appeared to be about seventeen or eighteen. The 'boy' had thick red hair that hung down his face in random bangs. He was wearing a gray cap on his head and a pair of faded blue jeans and a worn leather coat over a white button-up shirt.  
  
"Yes, can I help you.? Oh my god, it's you!" He started but then exclaimed as recognized the dark visage of the man standing before him and ran off towards the large barn off to the side of the house. Vincent flinched slightly and felt a bead of sweat run down his for head. "."  
  
Then, a woman appeared; she had long blond hair that hung down along the sides of her face and down her back. She had on a white blouse and a dark blue dress that came down to just above her ankles. She looked at him for a moment and sneered, but then approached him spoke. "Sir, can I help you?" She asked in a polite, business-like tone of voice. Vincent took a deep breath; he started to introduce himself but decided to give a different last name so as not to cause trouble. "Hello, I am Vincent Peterson, and I would like to rent one of your rooms for a couple of months while I'm staying in town." Vincent said. The woman smiled. "Yes, come in." She said as she ushered him into the house. Vincent nodded and followed her inside.  
  
***  
  
Vincent took a seat in the din across from the woman who had brought him inside.  
  
"Welcome Mr. Peterson, I am Marian Sullivan." She said as she held out her hand and shook his. She briefly took in his features; he had long black hair and dark red eyes and pale skin, he was dressed in black suit with a red cloak. His face seemed sort of tired on the inside and he seemed to be almost concealing something dark inside. "Now, as for your request for a room, it is two hundred Gil a week and meals are included three times a day." She informed him.  
  
Vincent leaned back. "That sounds fare, but if you could, I'd prefer to have the meals brought to my room, I'll pay extra in necessary." He added. "I believe I can make arrangements for that, Gillium can bring them to you." Marian replied. "Gillium?" Vincent asked. "Yes, my son, he's around here somewhere." She said looking around. Vincent then recalled the 'kid' he saw earlier. "Um yes, I think I, may have seen him earlier." Vincent remarked. "Well, then I'll have a talk with him about your meals." She said. The woman then stood up. "Come this way and I'll show you your room." She said as she began heading down the hallway. Vincent stood up and followed her down the hallway.  
  
"The house is powered by electricity from the local generator, so you don't have to worry about Mako problems." Marian said as she brought him to the door. "Vincent smiled briefly as her words reminded him of his days with the "old gang". She removed a key from a pocket on her dress and opened the door.  
  
Vincent stepped in and looked around. The room had a medium sized bed and a dresser drawer and a nice window on the other side of the room. Vincent smiled and turned back to face Marian. "This will be perfect." He said as he left to go get his things.  
  
***  
  
Gillium ran into the barn and was confronted by the sight of an occupied man in a pair of overalls. The brown skinned man looked up at him. "What is it, Gillium?" He asked, putting down his hammer. Gillium smiled and began to speak. "Scatz, you're not gonna believe who's here!" He exclaimed. "Who?" Scatz asked blandly. "Vincent Valentine, he's actually here!" Gillium explained. The black man jumped at the mention of the familiar name. "Vincent Valentine?!" He exclaimed. The two of them started talking when Gillium heard his mother call his name loudly. The young man jumped and took off towards the house.  
  
***  
  
A man standing outside the barn began making his way back towards the town. "Hmm, Vincent Valentine." The man said to himself.  
  
***  
  
Gillium entered the house through the front to the sight of his mother sitting in an armchair in the den. She looked up at him disapprovingly. "Gillium, I want to talk with you."  
  
***  
  
Vincent set his possessions down in on the floor and began to sort through them. He had many weapons with him: His 9mm Custom Pistol, "Quicksilver"; his prized "Death Penalty"; his two revolvers, a Lariat and a Winchester; his "Sniper CR" rifle; and both of his shot guns, the gas-powered automatic and the sawed of double barrel shot gun. He had Quicksilver and Death Penalty holstered to his side and the rest of his handguns were stored in a long rectangular box. The Sniper rifle was disassembled in a case with his sawed off shotgun. And, his automatic shotgun was in its carrying bag with the barrel detached to save space. He placed the guns in the drawer and then removed got to dealing with the pack that included the various odds and end he had acquired over the years.  
  
***  
  
Mrs. Sullivan looked at her son disapprovingly. "Now Gillium, it wasn't very nice of you to leave the house suddenly when you know I need you to help me with the renters." She said to him. Gillium's eyes grew wide as his mother mentioned the name of the new guest. "But Mom, that guy isn't Vincent 'Peterson', that guy was Vincent _Valentine_, the famous gunman." He said, stressing the last part. Mrs. Sullivan gasped.  
  
***  
  
Vincent turned around quickly as his door swung open suddenly and an angry Marian stepped in. He could see the frustration in her face. "Is something wrong, Mrs. Sullivan?" Vincent asked blandly.  
  
The woman flared up and began speaking. "Don't take such a personal tone with me, you lied to me, you're not Vincent Peterson, you're Vincent Valentine!" She exclaimed. Vincent frowned. "I'm sorry, but I knew you wouldn't act any better if I was honest with you." He replied. "Of course, you're a gunman, or do you prefer to be called a 'shootist'?" She asked sarcastically. "Gunslinger will do." Vincent replied simply. "I don't want your kind around here, so you may leave, now!" She said in a flustered tone of voice. "I can't." Vincent replied simply. Marian's face started to turn red. "And why do you say that?!" She asked furiously.  
  
"I'm dying." He replied simply, his face showing no emotion as he spoke. "I have cancer." He then added.  
  
She clasped her hand over her mouth as she gasped. She trembled slightly as she looked at him.  
  
***  
  
Somewhere, outside the room, the jaw of an eavesdropping Gillium dropped.  
  
He made his way out of the hall.  
  
***  
  
"I'm sorry." Marian replied, her eyes starting to tear up.  
  
Vincent sighed and walked up to her. He placed his hand on her shoulder without really knowing why. "Mrs. Sullivan, I need a room from you, not you're tears, so please don't cry." He told the woman. She looked at him for a moment and then calmed down. "Alright then, you can stay, Mr. Valentine." She said. Vincent gave a rare smile. "Call me Vincent." He said to her. She smiled slightly. "Alright, Vincent." She replied.  
  
~End of Chapter Three~  
  
So, the third chapter is finished and I can say that you can expect the next one soon with all the awesome reviews I've been getting from you guys. I hope you guys liked the story so far, I know that not as much happened in this chapter, but I'm going to be introducing more characters and developing the main ones more in the next chapters (I don't know how many though). Any way, I can promise that this story will not let you guys down, it will be exciting and emotional and deep (I hope ~_~).  
  
Later  
  
-Bojack727 


	5. Chapter Four: Charlemagne's Wheele

Here is the next chapter of the Gunslinger; I hope you will enjoy it. I worked hard to try and move the story into the next phase.  
  
-Bojack727  
  
Chapter Four: Charlemagne's Wheel  
  
  
  
Vincent entered the pharmacy to that Dr. Sortely had instructed him to go to get the special medicine that he had described. The quiet man stepped through the doorway and walked in. His presence quickly grabbing the attention of the Pharmacist at the counter. The man perked up at the sight of the tall man in the red cape, with the long black hair hanging down his back and framing the pale skin of his face and dark eyes.  
  
The man looked at Vincent pensively, unsure of what to make of him. "Can I help you?" He asked slowly. "Yes, I need this filled." Vincent replied simply, handing him the folded piece of paper. The Pharmacist looked at it for a moment before his eyes became wide as he read the prescription. "Sellusarin, damn, you must be bad off!" He exclaimed. "Just a moment, I have to mix this stuff on the spot myself." He said as he stepped back into another room. Vincent took a seat as he waited. "Sorry to hold you up like this," The Pharmacist began. "The ingredients for this are pretty heavy stuff, made specifically for very, very sick people."  
  
Unknown to Vincent, a man was looking at him from a not too great distance. The man soon straightened himself out and walked off  
  
***  
  
Kent mad his way the doors of the casino, passing under the sigh that read "Charlemagne's Wheel".  
  
The whole placed was full of people, drinking at the bar and gambling at the many machines in the hall. It was then that he spotted a clean cut man with wavy brown hair and brown eyes. The man had on a burgundy vest and a pin-striped dress shirt with a black tie. Kent made his way over to him. "Um, Mr. Magnuson." He said, taking off his hat as he spoke. The man looked up at Kent. "Yes, what is it?" He asked as he oversaw the outcomes of his main attraction- his "Specialty Wheel". "I thought you might be interested to know that _Vincent Valentine_ is here." He said nervously. "You sure?" He asked calmly. "Yes sir, it was him, that outfit of his was unmistakable." He replied.  
  
At the bar, a man in a blue jacket and a tan cowboy hat set his drink down. "Valentine."  
  
"Vincent Valentine. this is certainly an unexpected surprise. We must send him an invitation to come pay us a visit." Mr. Magnuson said with a grin "What do you mean?" Kent asked. "What he means is that he wants to make a name for himself, that's what." Said a voice to their right. Magnuson and Kent looked over at the white haired man before them; he was holding a drink in his hands. Magnuson smiled. "Well, if it isn't Peter McClain, my favorite drunk, what brings you stumbling our way?" He asked with a smile. Pete growled as he sneered at Magnuson. "You little shit, you don't know who you're talking to; I'm a legend!" He exclaimed. "Careful, Charles." Said another man from the left said. Magnuson looked over at the other man with the shaved head and a scar on his right cheek. "No worries, Randy." Magnuson replied with a wave of his hand. He then turned back to Pete. "You're not a legend, you're a joke." He told him. Pete lost it and lunged at Magnuson, swinging his fist at him. But Magnuson simply caught his fist and stopped him in his tracks. Pete gasped as Magnuson's eyes began to glow a dark red color. Then, suddenly, a sphere of black light engulfed him and he felt tremendous pressure being exerted on him. He couldn't breath! "How do you like Demi-1, how bout a stronger dose. Demi-2!" Magnuson exclaimed as the force doubled against his body. Pete tried to scream, but the force against his larynx was too strong. "Another minute and your insides will be all punctured by your compacting rib cage!" He told him. "Charles! That's enough!" Exclaimed Randy. Then, Magnuson let go and the man dropped to the floor and didn't get back up. "There." He said. "Damnit Charles, you could've killed him." Randy complained. "I know what I'm doing." He replied. "Now get him out of here." He said, watching as the two men took Pete by the arms and dragged him out of the casino.  
  
The man in the blue coat set his empty glass down and left the bar.  
  
***  
  
Vincent picked up the package with his medicine in it and paid the man; he then left the building and made his way back to the Boarding House. A tall skinny man with blond hair looked up at him and watched him go by. He smiled and grabbed another man by the shoulder. "What is it Silas?" The second man asked, he was shorter, with black hair and a mustache. "I just saw Vincent Valentine go by, Glen." He said pointed. "Shit, I think you're right?" Glen replied to Silas. "You know what this means?" Silas asked. "Yeah." He said, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth.  
  
  
  
~End of Chapter Four~  
  
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, please read and review so that I know that I should make the next chapter.  
  
Thanks.  
  
-Bojack727 


	6. Chapter Five: A Conversation

Oh my god, I can't believe that I wrote another chapter, it seems like it's been years since I worked on this one. But I'm happy to say that I will try and get back into the habit of working on this story, Thanks!  
  
-Bojack  
  
THE GUNSLINGER  
  
Chapter Five: A Conversation  
  
Vincent had picked up his medicine from the pharmacy and was making his way back down to the boarding house for some rest. But, what he didn't know was that the eyes of the world were upon him, the wicked eyes of the world.  
  
He tried to not draw attention to himself as he walked along, but it was hard for him as he was an (in)famous gunslinger and wearing a flapping red cape and long flowing black hair in a ponytail. The gunman was certainly an unusual figure in this seemingly normal place.  
  
He tucked the medication into a pock deep within his crimson colored cloak and continued walking. At this point, he just wanted to get back to the boarding house and rest, he felt tired tonight and just wanted to retreat to his room.  
  
***  
  
Vincent stepped inside the boarding house and walked through the living room, his steel tipped boots making gentle clicking sounds on the wooden planks beneath his feet.  
  
Vincent stopped and turned around to see that someone was coming; he looked and saw that it was Marian. She walked across the floor, her long dress making it look like she was gliding. "Oh, Vincent, I'm glad you're back." She stated, actually looking genuinely glad to see him.  
  
"You are?" he asked as he cocked one of his eyebrows.  
  
She smiled at him softly. "Yes, of course Vincent, I made tea and it's ready." She said with a smile.  
  
Vincent sighed. "I don't know." He began to speak.  
  
"Nonsense, it'll do you good to spend sometime out of your room." She replied firmly.  
  
Vincent knew that he couldn't win this battle and put on a cheerful face and accepted her offer for tea with her.  
  
***  
  
Vincent took a sip of his tea and set it back down. He was sitting across from Marian. He had been listening to her talk about the things that she had done that day and politely nodding to what she was saying and trying his best to be sociable.  
  
The tea turned out to be pretty good, it was nice to have the familiar feeling of the cup in his hand. He remembered that he had known someone who liked to make tea. a lot. "Who was is.?" He though to himself. He then suddenly remembered who it reminded him of. Vincent smiled nostalgically as he remembered the gritty old pilot from the old days. Despite how rude he could be, Vincent missed Cid. and that woman that lived with him. "Shera." He thought to himself as he remembered the woman's name.  
  
She lived with Cid and did whatever he told her to do because she felt she owed Cid her life because of the incident with the Rocket. Those two had a very special relationship. It was rather funny how Cid acted like a hard ass about them, but they all knew that deep down, in places he wouldn't openly talk about, that he really did care about her and that he would go to pieces without her around to keep him out of too much trouble. Vincent couldn't remember what had happened to them, the last time he heard about them was in an article that he read about their kid. what was his name?  
  
Vincent suddenly snapped out of his daydream as Marian said his name to him a couple of times.  
  
"Vincent, is something wrong?" She asked him, some concern showing in her soft feature. A few locks of her shiny blond hair hand down around her face and framing nicely.  
  
Vincent shook his head. "No, nothing's wrong. I was just daydreaming; the tea reminded me of an old friend, I'm sorry." He apologized to the woman as he shook his head and mentally harangued himself for being so rude as to zone out while she was talking.  
  
"It's okay." She replied as she leaned back in her chair.  
  
Vincent sighed and leaned back. He didn't understand why he was suddenly zoning out and thinking about the past now, did he really feel that comfortable around these people. especially around this woman.? There was something about her that made him want to actually interact with her.  
  
He finally decided to speak up. "I've been around for a long time." He began. She became quiet to listen to what he wanted to say.  
  
"And I've known a lot of people and seen a lot of places. So, I have a lot of memories. And this tea reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago." He stated. "Do you miss them?" She asked.  
  
"Sometimes, but there are times when I can't remember them very well. I have to try hard to not forget about them, a person is just the some of their memories." He finished, taking a sip of his tea.  
  
"I guess you have to live your life in the present, then?" She asked curiously. "Yes, people like me can't dwell in the past and we never know what the future will hold for us." Vincent replied.  
  
"Yes, I think I know what you mean. But, there is one thing that you can always count on." She stated.  
  
"What's that?" He asked with just a little interest showing.  
  
"That there will always be a hot cup of tea waiting for you, here." She said with a smile. "Would you like more tea?" She asked, offering the kettle before him.  
  
Vincent smiled at the statement and accepted the offer. As she poured more tea into the cup, he smiled to himself and he actually felt a somewhat pleasant feeling inside him. Maybe staying here wasn't going to be so bad after all. There was something about this place that felt very. reliable.  
  
"Thank you, it's means a lot to hear that from you, Mrs. Sullivan." He replied with a smile.  
  
"Marian." She announced.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" He asked her, not sure what she meant.  
  
"My name is Marian, I'd like for you to call me Marian." She said with a smile.  
  
Vincent smiled. "Okay, Marian." He spoke calmly.  
  
The woman smiled. "Maybe, you might be good company after all." She replied happily.  
  
~End of Chapter Five~  
  
So, did you like it? Tell me what you thought about it, I love getting feedback for my work. So, please read and review! Thanks again  
  
-Bojack 


	7. Chapter Six: Hero Worship

Well, here it is, the sixth chapter of the Gunslinger, I hope you all will enjoy it. I was finally able to get back into my "groove" in regards to this story, and this chapter came out like water from a pitcher.  
  
Thanks,  
  
-Bojack727  
  
The Gunslinger  
  
Chapter Six: Hero Worship  
  
Vincent Valentine was a dangerous man, he had been a Turk, a mercenary, and at one point- a reluctant accessory to the salvation of the world. He'd found no complication in killing man or beast. He was his own man, a dark man.  
  
.He was a man who'd been forced to sit outside, while he polished his gun, by a Widowed housewife because "sun is good for you" as she put it. He was there, sitting on the house's back porch.  
  
Vincent frowned, but then became tempted to actually smile. He'd fought war- machines, mutants, crime lords, and the world's most dangerous psychopath. but he now found himself acting behaving in a way that suited a widowed housewife. He smiled as he thought about the woman. "The Shinra can could a thousand ships, but a woman like Marian could sink them all with the shear power of her will." He thought, silently.  
  
Vincent berated himself for the way his thoughts were turning, a decent person could assume that he was trying to 'woo a lonely widow'- which was such a terrible cliché.  
  
Vincent heard footsteps, but relaxed as he saw that it was just Gillium. He frowned as he realized that he would probably have to talk the 'kid'.  
  
Gillium sat down on the steps, next to Vincent. "I can't believe you're really here." He announced enthusiastically.  
  
"Why? I'm sitting right here, next to you." Vincent replied, pretending to not understand the statement.  
  
The boy was undeterred. "What's it like?" He asked.  
  
"What is 'what' like?" Vincent asked back.  
  
Gillium stood up and threw out his arms. "To be you, to be the great Vincent Valentine." He replied.  
  
Vincent set his gun down and sat up, rising above the young man's lesser height. Vincent looked down at him. "Horrifying." He replied.  
  
Gillium was caught off guard, this was not what he was expecting. "What do you mean?" He asked nervously.  
  
"Gillium," He began, straining to address the young man by his first name. "The things I've done haunt me. You think I'm some kind of hero, but I'm not, I was just a killer-for-hire- paid to bloody my hands with the tasks that others would never dare to do." He replied and turned around to walk away.  
  
Gillium stepped forward. "Don't say that, you were hero- you helped save the world!" He exclaimed.  
  
Vincent stopped abruptly and turned around and looked at Gillium coldly. "You're fooling yourself. I never thought of myself as any hero, and neither should you." He replied and walked away- picking up his gun as he disappeared into the stable. Leaving Gillium to ponder the words that he had imparted on him.  
  
***  
  
Vincent walked into the stable- his steps becoming unstable- and stopped to lean against as support beam. He was starting to feel nauseous as an aching pain began to emerge deep in his gut. He groaned as he reached into his cloak and pulled out the bottle of Laudanum and feverously removed the cap and took a swig and fell to the ground, leaning against the beam. He waited uncomfortably as the pain gradually subsided. He put the cap back on the bottle and then tucked it back into his cloak. Vincent closed his eyes and drifted off.  
  
***  
  
Glen and Silas watched from a distance as Vincent stumbled into the Stable.  
  
Glen felt uncertain as he watched Vincent. He turned to his cohort. "That can't be Vincent Valentine," He remarked. "He can barely stand up!" He added.  
  
Silas turned to face him. "That is Vincent Valentine, the red cloak is unmistakable." He replied.  
  
"Are you sure we can deal with him?" Glen asked.  
  
"Of course, he'll never see us coming, and besides- he didn't look too just now." Silas replied.  
  
Glen smiled in relief. "That's a relief." He replied.  
  
Silas turned back to look towards the stable. "Just you wait, Valentine, just you wait." He said to himself restlessly.  
  
~End of Chapter Six~  
  
Thank you all for reading, please let me know what you think.  
  
Thanks, Bye  
  
-Bojack 


	8. Chapter Seven: Attack in the Night

"The Gunslinger"  
  
Chapter Seven: Attack in the Night  
  
Vincent woke up and looked around the room. His head ached badly and he still felt a little nauseous from earlier. After a moment, he soon realized that he was lying in bed, in his room. He looked over to his right side and saw Marian sitting in a chair by the bedside- looking at him, with a smile. Vincent could see that she was still wearing her dress and apron.  
  
"Well now, Vincent, I see you've finally woken up." She began warmly. "You had us worried there for a while." She informed him. "You were pretty bad when we found you." She went on.  
  
Vincent groaned and closed his eyes. "How long have I been unconscious?" He asked dryly.  
  
Marian sighed and thought for a moment. "About three hours." She replied. "Gillium found you sprawled out across the floor of the stable." She added suddenly, brushing a strand of blond hair out of her eyes. "He and Scatz had to carry you up here." She went on.  
  
The woman then cleared her throat. "And I removed your boots and cloak. I put the gloves over with that odd little claw of yours and I hung the cloak up in the closet, with your other garments." She finished a smile.  
  
Vincent groaned again. "Have you been here the whole time?" He asked, opening his eyes.  
  
"Well yes, I guess it's just my maternal instinct to care about someone when they're in trouble." She replied.  
  
"Thank you." He said simply as he looked up at the ceiling. He suddenly felt self-conscious.  
  
"Well, if you're all better, for now, then I'll leave you for the night." She said, getting up and walking towards the door, but stopped and looked over her shoulder. "I hope you'll be able to join us for breakfast in the morning, Vincent." She added with a smile, and left the room, closing the door softly as she disappeared.  
  
Vincent sighed and rolled over onto his right side, with his back to the door.  
  
***  
  
Glen and Silas were standing below Vincent's window. The two of them were discussing their plan of entry.  
  
"Did you see it?" Asked Silas.  
  
"Yeah, they had to carry him into the house." Replied Glen. "He was out cold." He replied.  
  
"It's gonna be no problem at all to get rid of him." Silas replied. "I'll climb through the window and you'll go in through the inside, got it?" Silas instructed.  
  
Glen nodded.  
  
"He'll never know what hit him." Silas announced proudly.  
  
***  
  
Vincent slept uneasily through the night, harassed by troubling images. But it only took a slight scraping sound to bring him back to attention. He awoke abruptly awoke to see that someone was sliding the window open.  
  
He reached under his pillow and pulled out a small revolver that he kept in case of an emergency. Luckily, the silhouette of a person trying to lift the window up hadn't noticed him moving around in his bed. He pointed the barrel towards the window and aimed.  
  
***  
  
It was easy enough to sneak in through the back door of the house and then creep up the stairs.  
  
Glen looked down the hallway, at the door to Vincent's room and began tiptoeing towards it. He reached down and pulled his gun out his holster and leaned up against the wall as he crept close to the door.  
  
Just as he was reaching for the knob, he heard a shot go off and the sound of glass shattering. He smiled to himself, deciding that Silas must have obviously made the first move- which now meant that it was time for him to go in for the kill!  
  
He stepped in front of the door and grabbed hold of the knob. But just as he turned it, three shots tore through the door and into Glen's arm. The man fell back, clutching his bloody limb as the door swung open.  
  
Glen gasped as Silas emerged from the shadows of the dark room and fell down beside him, not moving.  
  
Vincent was now visible, as he was the one standing behind Silas' dead body and holding it up. "No one tries to kill me and get away with it." He told the man darkly as he aimed his gun straight at him.  
  
Glen screamed as he heard the trigger pull back.  
  
~End of Chapter Seven~  
  
I am amazed that I finally wrote another chapter of this story, after all this time. My social life didn't leave much time for writing fanfcition, and a bad case of writer's block on this particular story made the last couple of chapters a real challenge.  
  
However, the previous chapter became a little easier, and this one practically wrote itself. So I'm just glad to be back in the saddle again.  
  
-Bojack747 


	9. Chapter Eight: Nothing to Loose

Chapter Eight: Nothing To Loose  
  
Vincent sat alone in the kitchen, sullenly looking across the table as he remained in complete silence. He felt vulnerable now, as he was no longer concealing a multitude of handguns and rifles inside the crimson cloak that he wore. Also missing, was the metal claw that he was worn for so many years. It was sitting atop the dresser, upstairs in his room.  
  
The situation in itself was absurd; the events of last night had thrown everything into chaos. How strange it must have been for everyone else to wake up to the sudden, violent sounds of gunfire.  
  
This was what he had been afraid of; the violence. It would seem that no matter where he went or where he hid, that danger and death followed him- like crows. But he had no choice; despite his best intent, the inevitable violence had sought him out and lashed out at him.  
  
Force to defend himself- once again- the lone gunman was driven back to the familiar realm of combat. In that place, all you could think about was how you were going to be able to kill the other man- before he most assuredly would kill you!  
  
As expected, Marian was very unhappy and had chastised him repeatedly and told him to go wait downstairs while she tried to fix all the trouble that he had brought down upon her home.  
  
Vincent clicked to attention when he heard the sound of footsteps coming his was. He looked over to see a man looking down at him nervously.  
  
"Are you Vincent Valentine?" He asked, barely able to keep his cool.  
  
"Yes." The sitting man replied, showing no emotion whatsoever.  
  
"I am Sheriff Tatum and I'm afraid that I'm going to have to arrest you." He informed him, just barely keeping the stutter out of his sentence.  
  
Vincent looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm not going anywhere." He answered grimly.  
  
The man practically blanched at the words, but managed to regain his composure. "I' don't want to have to use force. sir," He began. "But I will if you do not co-operate." He added.  
  
Vincent could tell from the way his eye was twitching that he was about to try and draw that gun that hung at his side- in its holster.  
  
So, he then did something that the Sheriff was not expecting, he pulled out singer dark pistol from his cloak and pointed it right at him. It was already locked and loaded. It was his beloved Death Penalty- more an extension of himself then a simple weapon. "Try me." Vincent told him.  
  
"You wouldn't dare!" Tatum exclaimed, too frightened to even try to pull out his weapon. "You'd be a dead man!" He added, trying to sound tough.  
  
"I already am!" Vincent exclaimed as he stood up and leered at the man, his eyes peering straight into the man's very soul- causing the lawman to turn pail  
  
"W-What?!" Tatum stuttered as he stumbled back against the wall.  
  
"I'm dieing- even now as we speak." He told him, still looking straight at him. "Cancer." Vincent added with a very dark smile.  
  
Tatum eased up about a nervous laugh. "And here I thought that I'd be coming home in a box." He remarked. "But now," He began. "You're gonna be no problem at all." He added, suddenly feeling confident.  
  
"Maybe you don't understand what I'm saying," Vincent began, walking towards him with his gun aimed at him. "Just because I'm sick, doesn't mean that I couldn't kill you in a secant." He added.  
  
Tatum looked at the end of the gun- now less then a foot away from his face- and almost soiled himself as he watched Vincent turn the gun's safety off.  
  
"You seem to fail to realize that I have nothing to loose by killing you." Vincent told him with a smile. "Now get out of here, while I'm still feeling generous!" Vincent commanded.  
  
The man stumbled over to the side and then looked over his shoulder. "You're lucky, because I'm going to let you off this time," He shouted, failing to sound defiant. "Only because I feel sorry for you!" He added, again failing to sound defiant. He then vanished through the doorway.  
  
Vincent sat back down and placed his gun back in his cloak, not bothering to put the safety back on.  
  
He then looked up to see Marian looking down at him. "What just happened?" She asked him.  
  
"Just setting the recoded straight with that tin-soldier." Vincent replied, curtly.  
  
"Damn you, Vincent." She exclaimed. "Do you have any idea of the repercussions of your actions last night?" She demanded.  
  
"I guess you're going to tell me." Vincent replied, rudely- as he had not yet come down off of the familiar bloodlust he had felt briefly during the moments he stood before the pathetic excuse of a Sheriff.  
  
Marian clenched her fists. "The whole thing scared all of the renters terribly. and some of them are threatening to leave." She explained. "And I need the revenue they provide to pay off my debts." She finished.  
  
Vincent started to feeling sick, both from the sudden realization of what he had done to her and from a strange nausea that he began forming inside him. "I'm sorry." He replied, placing his hand on the table to steady himself as tremors began to run through his body.  
  
The woman noticed his sudden change in demeanor and her expression quickly became one of concern. "Vincent?" She began.  
  
The gunman waved his hand in front of her. "It's nothing," He began, "It's probably just a side effect of overexerting myself earlier." He tried to reason.  
  
She walked over to him and looked him in the eyes. "Vincent, I'm sorry for- "  
  
But Vincent cut her off before she could finish speaking. "Don't just say that to me because you feel sorry for me." He spat. "Pity is something I don't need." He then added. He suddenly felt horribly sick to his stomach and ran past the woman before she could say a single thing.  
  
"Vincent?!" She exclaimed as he ran out into the entry room, watching him stagger up the stairs while he leaned against the wall.  
  
She stood there a long for a moment, in the entry room, gazing sadly up at the top of the stair.  
  
"Mom?" A familiar voice asked.  
  
Marian turned around to see Gilliam standing there, his red bangs hangs down on his forehead. His hat was gripped tightly in his hand.  
  
"Where'd Vincent go?" He asked innocently.  
  
"Just up to his room, dear." She replied. "He's not feeling well at the moment." She then added.  
  
Gilliam watched as she walked up before him and brushed the locks of red hair out of his eyes and then smiled at him warmly. She then took hold of his hands and looked off to the side.  
  
"Is something wrong?" the young man asked.  
  
"No," she began, looking back into his eyes. "I'm just thinking about how much you remind me of your father." She replied simply and then walked past him and through the back door. "I need to be alone for a moment." She told him as she went go sit down on the back porch.  
  
At that Moment, Scatz walked into the room. "I finished fixing the saddles for the chocobos." He announced. The black man then looked at Gilliam for a moment and could see that something was troubling him. "What's wrong?" He asked the young man.  
  
"I don't know, Scatz, I just don't know." He replied.  
  
Scatz was quiet for a moment then spoke up again. "Something bad's going on," He remarked. "Mr. Valentine must be getting worse." He then added.  
  
"It's not fair, Scatz." Gilliam complained. "Why doesn't Vincent end up being the one with cancer, why couldn't it have been someone else- someone who deserved it." Gilliam remarked.  
  
Scatz sighed. "There's not much I can tell you," He began. "Life's just like that." He added. "One day it's bright and sunny, and the then the next day its dark and stormy." He tried to reason to him.  
  
Scatz then placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Everyone lives their lives with the same amount of uncertainty about living as they do about dieing." He spoke. "That's something we all have to except- that death will come one day." He added.  
  
"How is that supposed to make me feel better?" Gilliam asked incredulously.  
  
"It's not supposed to make you feel better- words are just words in the end." Scatz explained. "It's the actions that matter, and it's the things you do with the time you have that's the important thing." He added. "And maybe Mr. Valentine will realize this, in his own time." He concluded as he walked out of the room.  
  
Gilliam stood there, alone, for a moment, and then looked towards the front door and put his hat back on and left.  
  
Scats ran back into the room briefly to pick up his satchel and then made his way back outside where he noticed a man in a blue coat and a gray cowboy hat on.  
  
"Can I help you?" He asked the stranger.  
  
"Is the man named Vincent Valentine here, right now?" He asked coolly.  
  
Scatz thought for a moment about what he should say then finally replied. "I'm sorry, but he's indisposed at the moment and will busy for a while." He explained.  
  
The man just smiled. "Well then, I'm sorry to have troubled you." He replied. "But could you give Mr. Valentine a message?" He asked.  
  
"What is it?" Scatz asked.  
  
"Just tell him that Dekker Vandros would like to have a word with him." He announced.  
  
"Yes sir." Scatz said with a nod and then walked back off towards the stables.  
  
Dekker looked up at the windows, spotting the broken one. "You can't hide from me for ever, Vincent." He said and then walked away.  
  
~End of Chapter Eight~  
  
Wow, I'm sorry that it took me so long to update this story, and I'm sorry about chapter seven. I accidentally uploaded a chapter from a different story.  
  
Oh well, I fixed that problem just a little while ago.  
  
Another problem is that the College Campus I'm living on can't access FF.Net for some reason. I don't know why, but this is just how it is. So, updates will be less frequent, but I'll most likely be updating several of my stories at once. (Including this one)  
  
Also, I decided to try a different style with this chapter. Instead of rapidly switching scenes by using asterisks (***). But I decided that it would be more interesting to have the scene move along with the characters. (i.e. by showing them walking from one place to the other).  
  
I sort of barrowed the idea from a scene in Hamlet- (Act 2, Sc 2)- where most of the cast is just simply coming in and out of the same area. Oh well.  
  
Any way, see you guys around  
  
-Bojack747 


	10. Chapter Nine: Sick

Hopefully, the updates of this story will become more frequent. I've gone far too long without working on this fic. Anyway, see you all next time.  
  
-Bojack727  
  
Chapter Nine: Sick  
  
Vincent stumbled his way up the stair as his vision blurred. He managed to make it to the top and into his room.  
  
Once inside, he burst into the bathroom to alleviate the sickening feeling inside of him. After several minutes, he staggered back into his room and fell collapsed onto the floor with his back against the side of the bed.  
  
He was getting worse now, and the sickness seemed to be accelerating as time wore on. For a moment, the image of his ultimate demise passed through his head. It was just the way James had described it to him. It chilled him to bone to think that he would end up like that.  
  
Another thought briefly passed through his mind- he could end it himself... He reached into his cloak and pulled out one of the many guns he carried on him and started to point the barrel towards the side of his head.  
  
Several moment of excruciating silence passed as he sat their, alone in the dark room. His hand trembled and he finally lost his nerve. He dropped the pistol onto the floor and closed his eyes.  
  
So much pain ... There was so much pain in his life. Everything had been nothing more then a series of disasters and heartbreaks. He had only truly loved one woman in his whole life, and she rejected him. Why had he loved a woman that couldn't... and didn't... love him back?  
  
Then he was betrayed by a man he was supposed to have trusted. That same man didn't even give him the choice of dying; instead, he brought him back to life to live for ever as a freak. "What am I?" He thought. "I'm just a walking corpse." He thought, in reply of his own question.  
  
***  
  
Charles was keeping himself busy shuffling a deck of cards when one of his "assistants" came running into the casino. His dark brown hair was slicked back neatly and he was dressed in his usual fancy clothes.  
  
"Boss, someone attacked the boarding house last night!" He exclaimed as he stopped beside him.  
  
Still sitting down, Charles replied without looking away from his deck. "Let me guess, whoever attacked him," He began. "Didn't do so well, correct?" He asked.  
  
"Yes sir, those two punks- Silas and Glen- tried to sneak into his room at night, but now they're both dead." He replied.  
  
"I knew it wouldn't be long before it started, Randy." Charles replied, still not looking away from the deck.  
  
"What started?" Randy asked him.  
  
"Before the mercenaries started showing up." He replied. "Killing Vincent Valentine is a guaranteed ticket to stardom." He explained calmly. He then stood up and looked Randy in the eyes.  
  
"So you think there will be more, then?" Randy asked.  
  
"I'd be surprised if there weren't others." He replied.  
  
"What about you, Boss?" the other man asked the dealer.  
  
Charles sat back down and returned to his cards. "This is a very serious matter." He replied. "One which I will not walk idly into." He added. "I want to see more of what Mr. Valentine can do first, before I even think about it." He finished and then became quiet once again.  
  
"It is important that I know that Mr. Valentine is worth the trouble of me going out of my way," He remarked as he leaned back in his chair and pulled up a bottle of gin and a glass. "I'll send out my special team to deal with him first." He added. "Then we'll know what to do."  
  
***  
  
"I'm worried, Mom." Gillium explained to his mother.  
  
Marian looked at her son with some fondness in her eyes. She was reminded of how important he had been to her, especially after her husband died. "Well, he is very sick." She replied.  
  
"I know," The red-haired young man replied from where he and mother sat in the dining room. "But he's getting worse." He added.  
  
"I know." She replied. The truth was that she knew how bad he was even more intimately then her son did. What troubled her was the fact that she felt obliged to get herself so involved in his personal problems. Perhaps it was the fact that he had seemed to vulnerable to her. His moments of uncertainty and illness were a sharp contrast to the cold and grim way he had been described to her in stories when she was young. Did she feel like she had to care for him when he refused to care for himself?  
  
***  
  
Vincent looked out the window. The sun was quickly going down- vanishing behind the mountainous horizon. He'd been cooped up in the room for a few hours now. He then looked down into the street. He noticed a small group of people making there way towards the saloon and casino, on the far end of the town.  
  
One of them looked to be at least seven feet tall and had a large weapon slung over his shoulder. Another one was a little over six feet tall and was stooped over. The other four, he couldn't make out.  
  
However, as he watched them, he had a bad feeling come over. There was something about these people that he didn't like. Instinctively, he began to reach into his cloak, but stopped once he thought better of it. "Who are they?" He asked himself.  
  
***  
  
Charles watched the group enter his casino. "Thank you all for arriving so expeditiously."  
  
A figure stepped forward. He was wearing a strange reddish-brown body suit and a tattered hat over his head, the brim pulled down over his eyes. "No problem, we got your telegraph last night and rode in as fast as we could." He answered. "By the way, the job in Kalm has now been taken care of."  
  
Everyone quickly sat down at a large table in the room. "I've called you all here because I want you to kill someone for me." Their host explained.  
  
"Who?" One of the others asked.  
  
"Vincent Valentine." He replied.  
  
***  
  
Vincent walked down the stairway, his cloak hanging around him, his guns clapping against his hips. He was heading towards the door when a voice stopped him.  
  
"Vincent, where are you headed?" Marian asked.  
  
He looked over his shoulder at the blond-haired woman. "I need to think, I may be gone some time." He replied as he left the room.  
  
She shook her head as she watched him leave. "Stubborn man." She commented as he vanished into the darkness. She tightened the tie around her waist and shut the door.  
  
***  
  
"Vincent Valentine?!" Exclaimed the man in the old hat.  
  
A tall, slumped over figure spoke up. "Vincent Valentine is a killing machine." He remarked. The words coming from behind his masked face. The figure sounded too be male, as was wearing a strange battle suite and has long spider-like arms and legs. His mask had no visible openings for his eyes or mouth, yet he still seemed able to see perfectly and speak unheeded.  
  
The one in the hat spoke again. "Rifter." He said as he held up his hand. He then looked back over at their host. "You actually think we're stupid enough to try and kill him?" He asked.  
  
Charles smiled. "Mr. Valentine is dying." He replied simply.  
  
Another cloaked figure stepped forward. "Are you sure?" asked a decidedly female voice.  
  
"I'm certain of it." The dealer replied. "It's only a matter of time before he dies from a particularly fatal illness." He finished.  
  
"Then why do you need us to kill him, then?" The man in the hat asked.  
  
"My dear Jackal," Charles began. "The problem is that he's not dying fast enough." He went on. "At the moment, he's still strong enough to interfere with my master plans." He concluded.  
  
The female voice spoke once more. "Why should we do this anyway?"  
  
Charles smiled demurely. "If you kill him, then I will set you free from your contracts with me."  
  
"Our freedom?" Asked the colossal one.  
  
"Yes, unconditionally." He replied.  
  
Jackal leaned forward and smiled. "We'll do it then." He replied.  
  
~End of Chapter Nine~  
  
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter; I rather enjoyed introducing some new villains. The main storyline should be revealing itself soon.  
  
-Bojack727 


	11. Chapter Ten: The Bloody Guns

THE GUNSLINGER

Chapter 10: The Bloody Guns

Vincent Valentine finally came to. He briefly recalled that he had succumbed to sleep. He looked towards the closed window for a moment and noticed that it wasn't quite dawn yet. "The sun will rise soon, yet all I see is more darkness..." He remarked.

He was actually sitting in the bathtub while the water dully hit his tattered form. After a time, he got dressed and exited the dwelling in silence, so as to avoid disturbing the others.

He stepped out into the open, the only light came from far off in the eastern horizon. "What?" He spoke as he looked around. He could have sworn that he was being watched. After a moment, he dismissed it as only the effect of a brief moment of paranoia. He quickly forgot about the issue as he began his early morning walk.

.o.o.o.

Tonmar watched him through the scope of his rifle. "We should kill him now, while his guard is down." He remarked. "I could—"

"No." Jackal replied simply. "The death of Vincent Valentine is something I wish to savor." He added.

"He's nothing." Another figure remarked, still covered by his cloak. "Give me a chance to fight him, I will claim his life!"

"Silence, Skull!" Jackal snapped. "Are you truly so eager to fight him?" He then asked.

"Yes." He replied.

Tonmar set his gun down and snagged his cap off of his head. "I say we let him give it a try." He announced. "It would at least be amusing to see how exactly you plan to kill him."

"Go, then." Jackal instructed him dully.

The others watched as he departed from the roof top that they were on.

.o.o.o.

Vincent stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Who's there?" He asked.

He swung around to see a man materialize about ten feet away. He was rapped in a cloak and could not be seen in any real detail.

"My name is Skull, and I have come to kill you, Vincent Valentine!" He replied as he through off his cloak. He appeared to be dressed in some sort of gray body armor and he wore smooth mask over his face that was pained to look like a grinning skull. His right arm was covered by some sort of machine that looked as if it was a canon of some sort.

Vincent took a step back. "I don't know who or what the hell you are, but I'm in no mood to fight an amateur like you!" He replied.

"How dare you!" Skull snapped. "I'll show you just how dangerous I really am!" He exclaimed as he aimed his arm-mounted gun at Vincent.

"BARRIER!" Vincent called out, just in time for a laser blast to reflect off of the shield he formed before himself.

Skull watched as the red-cloaked figure leapt up into the air and landed behind him. Vincent pulled out two pistols and opened fire on his back.

"Idiot!" Skull snapped. "I'm covered in reinforced armor, those little guns of your won't even put a dent in me!" He exclaimed as he turned around and fired another laser blast out him.

The beam missed, as Vincent seemed to practically vanish in secants.

Skull spotted him on a rooftop and fired at him, only to have the red figure slip out the laser's path. Vincent darted around several time, easily avoiding the blast. Then, he stopped, right in front of the Skull, only a few meters distance between them.

"It doesn't matter how fast you are, I'll get you eventually!" Skull exclaimed as he fallowed Vincent into a darkened alley, only to hear his footsteps behind him.

The gunman stepped out of the way of another beam and then turned to watch his attacker run out into the open. "No, no you won't." Vincent replied as he slowly walked towards him. Skull took a step back.

"Get the hell back!" He yelled as he held up his laser cannon.

"This fight was over minutes ago, you just don't know it." Vincent finished.

"We'll see." Skull replied calmly as he prepared to fire at the former Turk. But the surprise came when the laser canon exploded. Skull fell back screaming. "How?" He managed to say.

"While I was distracting you with that flip I did, I got in a shot that you were to slow to notice- I shot the spot on that fancy toy of yours that houses the regulating unit for the laser beam generator. After that, it was just a matter of time before your gun overheated itself." Vincent pulled a sawed-off shotgun out of his cloak. "This is the part where it ends." He then began to walk towards him, the new sun slowly emerging behind him in a picturesque scene.

Skull held up his hands. "Now, wait just a secant, I surrender!" He exclaimed.

Vincent stopped. "Who sent you?" He asked.

"I was sent by—"He began to say, but then looked up as a bright light headed towards him. The red-cloaked gunfighter looked up in a similar fashion.

But then, a huge explosion vaporized Skull and sent Vincent flying. Bits of dirt and rubble rained down on the immobilized Vincent. Dust rose up all around him.

Jackal then holstered his gun. "Pathetic." He remarked. He then turned to Tonmar and the other three figures that were with him. "Skull was expendable, I used him as a way to show you all just who we're dealing with." He finished. "For now, we'll just bide our time and wait for a chance to kill him."

Jackal looked down and saw, as the dust cleared, Vincent role onto his side and look up at him. He simple smiled down at the prone gunman.

Vincent struggled to his feet, only to vomit. He gasped for air as he tried to clear his thoughts. "No, I can't loose it now, not yet!" He thought. "I have to hold on for a while longer." He reasoned.

'Give it up; you can't keep me in forever.' A dark voice inside him warned.

"C-C-CHAOS!" He screamed and fell back down. "n-n-NO." He spluttered.

"You, I'll kill you, i-if it's the last thing I do."

Vincent rolled over and looked up at the heavily battered and bloody form of Skull.

Skulled held up another (smaller) gun and aimed it at Vincent- when a wound blew open in his chest, over his heart. Skull fell down and began bleeding out.

The former turn looked up to see a strange figure he couldn't make out in the dim light. The stranger tucked his gun back in its holster. "No one kills you but me." He said, and vanished into the shadows.

Vincent quietly slipped away before anyone built up the nerve to go investigate what was happening.

End of Chapter 10


	12. Chapter Eleven: Target Practice

Roughlya year and a half have passed since I last updated this story. Now, I return to this once more. I hope that everyone will enjoy this.

-Bojack727

**.o.o.o.**

**THE GUNSLINGER**

Chapter 11: Target Practice

Vincent got back up onto his feet. Just secants earlier, the man attacking him was alive, and now he was dead with a large hole in his upper body.

He looked up and saw the silhouetted figure of the man vanish. The words ran through his memory. _'No one kills you but me.'_ Vincent frowned. "Perhaps I've come into some real trouble this time?" He wondered.

He got to his feet and looked around, realizing that the commotion would draw a crowd, he decided to slip into the shadows and return to the boarding house.

He also knew that this would not be the last he saw of these strangers. . .

**.o.o.o.**

Jackal walked into the empty casino and sat down at the bar. He took a cigarette and lit it. "So, that's Vincent Valentine?" He asked. "He really is a dangerous man."

"No more dangerous then you." A female voice remarked.

Jackal looked up at the figure, sitting on a table across from him. Long legs where crossed- capped off at the ends by the sharp points of heals. A pare of manicured hands pulled back the hood. "Though, you didn't really have to kill Skull." She remarked- not so much in a critical way, but more in a practical way.

"I don't suffer fools well; you should know that by now, Helixia." Jackal replied. "And I don't want to kill him from far away." He added, looking over at Tonmar.

The man frowned. "Your loss." He remarked. His tactical visor slid up, to uncover his eyes.

"We'll see." Jackal replied, taking his hat off and standing back up. "Valentine will find his way into the vicious traps we have laid for him- and he shall never leave alive."

"I certainly hope for your sake." Charles remarked, entering the room with a smile.

**.o.o.o.**

Vincent Valentine stepped out into the backyard of the boarding house. His red cape was wrapped around him and his metal boots clattered against the wooden floor.

He stopped when he sensed someone was nearby. He turned around and spotted Gilliam approach him. "Can I help you?"

The young red-haired man stopped. "I want to know how to fire a gun." He asked. "Could you show me?"

Vincent looked up at the sky, noticing the passing clouds. "Why do you want to know how to shoot a gun?" He asked.

Gilliam was silent at this remark.

"Do you want to learn how to fire a gun to defend yourself, or is some foolish desire to try and relate to me?" He asked. Vincent decided to not wait for an answer. "If you want to know how to defend yourself and your mother, then I'll do it."

Vincent and Gilliam stood side by side, about a foot apart, roughly ten meters away, there was an old dead tree. Vincent removed a pistol from his cloak and handed it to Gilliam. "I want you to try and shoot the knothole on the tree."

The young man took the gun and held it up, he pulled the trigger, but the gun only clicked.

"The chamber should always be empty, that way you won't run the risk of harming yourself in a moment of panic." He explained. He then took the gun back and pulled the slide till the familiar sound of a round entering the chamber could be heard.

"Now, try it again- and be more precise." He instructed him as he put the gun back in his hand. Vincent crossed his arms. "Look down the barrel so that the cross hairs line up." He added. He watched him comply; Gilliam's arm was straight and the gun was pointed out. "Good, now fire."

_BANG!_

A piece of bark flew off the tree, near the edge of the knothole. "What happened?" Gilliam asked, dismayed.

"You have to be more steady then that." Vincent remarked. "Here, watch me." He added and pulled another gun from his cloak and pulled back the slide.

Gilliam watched him aim and narrow his eyes. Vincent pulled the trigger several times, and the bullets struck the knothole very close to the center.

"Now try it again- and this time, relax."

Gilliam aimed again, this time- more careful and thoughtful of his target.

_BANG!_

The round struck the tree near the center of the knothole. Gilliam's face lit up. "I got it!" He exclaimed.

Vincent covered his mouth and coughed slightly; he sat down on a tree stump and steadied himself. "Good work, you've still got a ways to go, though."

"Are you alright?" Gilliam asked, handing him the gun.

Vincent nodded. "Yes, I'm fine- I just feel a little dizzy."

Marian watched through the window and shook her head. She sighed and went off to tend to the task around the house.

Elsewhere, another figure watched. Dekker Vandros smiled to himself as he watched Vincent come through the sudden coughing fit and dizziness.

Dekker turned away. "So, Valentine, is that the rigors of an ill body, or is it a guilty conscience?" He thought.

**.o.o.o.**

Vincent stood out in the yard, looking off at the Mansion in the distance. "Still empty, after all this time." He remarked.

"Yes, but it's not haunted anymore." Marian interjected, handing him a cup of tea. "What is that place to you- why are staring at a retched place like that?" She asked.

Vincent frowned. "The path I took in life that brought me to where I am now began in that building- the monsters may have been driven out, but the real ghosts are still there." He replied cryptically.

"What happened there, Vincent? What happened to you?" Marian asked.

He shook his head. "I was young and impetuous, and I loved a woman who could never love me in return. In the end, the man she loved grew tired of my advances and killed me."

"But how, you're standing here right now- you're alive." The woman remarked.

The dark lines on Vincent's face furrowed at these words. "Alive?" He began. "You don't know what I really am, do you?" He asked, turning to face her. "He shot me through the spine- and then he brought me back to life to test a scientific theory of his- do you want to know what it was?"

She was silent.

"This man- a scientist- wanted to see if tissue could be reanimated- brought back to life in some way. I was the end result of his experiment." Vincent said, his hand trembling as he spoke.

"I'm not alive, yet I'm not dead!" He exclaimed- his hand squeezed the cup so hard it shattered and he stepped away from her.

Marian advanced towards him to see if he was alright. "Vincent?"

"Get back from me!" He snapped and stormed off.

**.o.o.o.**

Vincent knew he was being cruel to her, but he also knew it was better that way. He leaned against the wall, holding onto the railing as he walked up the stairs.

"Damnit, it's not fair- why now, why after so long do I start to really care about things?" He thought.

He made his way to his room and slammed the door. He entered into the darkened room and suddenly lost his footing and collapsed.

**.o.o.o.**

Marian was holding a lantern in her hand as she made her way around the house, making sure all the doors were locked and then looked outside to make sure that Scatz had secured the stables.

She then made her way up the stairs and traversed the dark hall. She stopped at Vincent's room and knocked on the door. "Vincent, are you alright?" She asked, not sure why she was even speaking to him after his little outburst earlier that day.

When she received no reply, she took a deep breath and turned the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. The door slowly opened as she peeked in. It was too dark for her to discern anything, so she shined the lamp in and then gasped as she saw Vincent laying on the floor, face down.

She set down the lamp and rushed over to him. "Vincent!" She exclaimed as she turned him over. She could see that he was very pail. She shook him roughly and swatted his face. Vincent perked up slightly. "What's happening?" He asked in confusion.

She smiled down at him. "Everything is going to be all right, but I need to get you into bed, so you'll have to be on your feet for a moment." She told him as she helped him to his feet.

Vincent managed his way to the bed and sat down. Marian helped him remove his cloak and then hung it up. She turned around and saw him hanging his head. "How bad is it now?" She asked him.

"It's not fair," He whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not fair, I've spent the last several decades wanting to die, but now that I am, I suddenly want to live."

She sat down beside him. "Vincent, I don't know what to say to you."

Vincent covered his eyes and made a faint choking sound. "God, I just don't understand any of this- life is so cruel." He muttered.

Marian shook her head.

Vincent pulled his hands away, both now bare, and looked at them. "What does this mean?" He asked strangely, noting the moisture.

Marian gasped as she watched him. "Vincent, they're tears." She explained to him.

Vincent rapidly began to tremble. "Damnit! I hate this- feeling these emotions. I'm such a monster that I forgot what it means to cry!" he raged.

"Stop it!" Marian suddenly snapped at him. He looked up at her. "Look at yourself, you act as if you're the only person in the world to ever loose something- well, I'll tell you something."

She paused. "Do you think I wanted to be a widow before my son was even born, do you think that I wanted this life, do you think that anyone who's ever been a victim wanted it?" She exclaimed. "So get a hold of yourself and be a man- regrets will get you nothing in life!" She finished.

Vincent was silent. "i-i- I'm sorry. . ." He replied.

She calmed down and put her arms around him. "It's alright," She comforted him. "Vincent, I want you to know that you're not a monster- you're a man, a good man." She told him.

**.o.o.o.**

Gilliam watched his mother leave Vincent's room. "Mom- oh I see what's going on." He suddenly remarked cheekily, noting that she was dressed in her evening gown and robe.

Marian blustered at this. "Young man, you do yourself no favors be being so impertinent- you presume wrong." She replied. "A child like you can't understand the complexities of what people my age go through- so stow that Cheshire grin and get back to bed." She commanded, tightening up her robe.

Gilliam gulped and nodded. "Yes mom." He replied.

Once he was gone, she sighed and relaxed. She felt her cheeks, noting the warmness. "Damn, I'm far too old for something like this." She thought to herself and made her way back to her room.

(- End of Chapter 11 -)

**.o.o.o.**

Well, what did you all think of this. Drop me some reviews and let me know. This is the first new chapter written since 10/7/04.

Later,

-Bojack727


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